Falling Into Yesterday
by Kim3
Summary: Infidelity. Deceit. Revenge. Is anyone really innocent? BA. BS. AD. Spike had no illusions, his eyes were clear. This wasn't a case where he and the woman of his dreams lived happily ever after. This was revenge. Pure....... Simple....... Unadulterated..
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Falling Into Yesterday  
  
AUTHOR: Kim   
  
SPOILERS: Completely AU fic. B/A. B/S & A/D  
  
RATING: R   
  
SUMMARY: Infidelity. Deceit. Revenge. Is anyone really innocent? B/A. B/S. A/D. Spike had no illusions, his eyes were clear. This wasn't a case where he and the woman of his dreams lived happily ever after. This was revenge. Pure....... Simple....... Unadulterated.... Revenge   
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES:   
  
The idea for this story came from a challenge by Caitlyn at the BB. I'm only using about 25% of the challenge, so she might not even recognise it. LOL. The challenge starts with B/A being ripped apart, so expect lots of anguish in the first few chapters.   
  
This is also a Spike heavy story. I love Spike. I love B/A and B/S. put them together and this is what you get. Anguish   
  
This is NOT a B/A/S Fic   
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, I don't want them, they make me cry too much. Joss and his people do the owning thing   
  
Falling Into Yesterday   
  
Prologue   
  
Welcome to Sunnydale   
  
Population 34.500   
  
We hope you enjoy your stay   
  
Without so much as a backward glance, the black Desoto flashed past the dilapidated welcome sign that had stood on the border for the last fifty years and, with a wisp of burning rubber, it left the structure wobbling precariously in its' wake.   
  
Once over the Sunnydale border, the vehicle steered clear of the heart of the small community, slipping silently into the suburbs, virtually unnoticed. Not that anybody who happened to be in the vicinity that night would have taken notice of the speeding blur. Any resident with any modicum of sense or fortune usually found somewhere slightly more exciting to spend their long warm summers.   
  
Hidden behind the tinted windows of the ebony vehicle, Spike Pennington threw a quick glance in his rear view mirror and swung a sharp right turn at the first junction off Wilkins Street. Once cleared of the street recently re-named after the late Sunnydale mayor, the driver headed directly for the more prestigious part of town.   
  
He'd purposely avoided the old haunts on Main Street, taking the slightly longer, more scenic route, but even as he drove along the old familiar road, he knew there were some places that couldn't be bypassed. When the DeSoto passed the old high school Spike turned his head slightly, taking just enough time to watch the aging campus vanish from view.  
  
That old saying really was true. He silently reflected, *No matter how much time passes some things really never change*.   
  
Even in the dim evening light, Spike could see well enough to know that although the old town had received the odd lick of paint over the last twenty years, the buildings themselves had remained the same. Every detail he had spent half of his life trying to forget was still exactly the bloody same.   
  
To say that Spike Pennington hated Sunnydale with a passion would have been an understatement. The three years he was forced to live there, as a teenager with his uncle Giles, had been the most painful of his life. If it weren't for the fact that he was now being paid a shit load of money for this assignment, nothing on God's green earth would have enticed him back to the hell of his misspent youth. Maybe it was fate. The chance to kill two birds with one stone kind of fate. Exorcise his ghosts with one hand and pick up the largest pay cheque of his career with the other.   
  
Spike already knew that the assignment part would be easy; he could do it in his sleep. But the ghosts? Exorcising his ghosts would be a whole lot harder.   
  
Holding the steering wheel lazily in his left hand, he ran his right hand through his slick bleached hair, unsettling the heavy layer of gel beneath his fingertips. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Even the air smelled the same.   
  
*The scent of flowers, a taste of seasalt, the slight hint of ... vanilla."*  
  
"Sod off!" Spike silently cursed the intruding memories that drifted into his mind. They made him weak and he couldn't allow that. Not ever again.  
  
Turning his thoughts back to the task ahead, his mind quickly banished the ghosts from his past. Spike's foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. The quicker he was out of this godforsaken place, the happier he would be.  
  
On reaching his destination, Crawford Street, or to be more precise, the large sprawling mansion that occupied most of Crawford Street, he turned his car into the willowy shadows and quickly killed the engine. Like the rest of Sunnydale, this area was also extra quiet during the long summer months.   
  
*Quiet was good. Deserted was better. But at a push, quiet would do. *  
  
From the information he had been supplied with, Spike already knew that the mansion was up for sale and had been for almost ten years. A quick glance at the unkempt grounds confirmed that the building was empty, and on closer inspection, it appeared as if the few neighbouring houses had gone the same way. For some unknown reason property didn't sell very fast in Sunny-D   
  
Being hardly inhabited, Crawford Street was dimly lit and the security on offer seemed to be almost non-existent. Perfect conditions for his line of work. Get in, get out. No questions asked.   
  
Spike smiled for the first time since passing the Sunnydale welcome sign. A small chuckle slipped from his lips.  
  
  
  
"Like taking bleedin' candy from a baby"   
  
The happy thought was quick to remind him that even thought it was easy, he still had the job to finish. Spike leaned slightly towards the passenger side, reached into the glove compartment, and pulled out the Adam's file. The interior light was just bright enough to double-check the address, not that it was necessary. He never took chances. He glanced at his wristwatch one last time before pulling on his black leather gloves and hiding his shock of platinum hair beneath a black woollen hat.   
  
10: 39 p.m. From experience, Spike knew that in a situation as delicate as this one, timing was everything. Arriving too early would almost be as disastrous as arriving too late. He patiently counted the minutes down to 10.45pm and then grabbed his bag.  
  
Exiting the car as quietly as possible, he took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the essence of decay. There was rain in the air; he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. If Lady Luck was on his side tonight, the downpour would hold off until he was back on the road to L.A. Working in bad weather wasn't the best condition for his line of work. If he needed to move, he usually needed to move fast. Breaking his neck sliding down a slippery wet drainpipe simply wasn't on the agenda that evening.   
  
Spike looked up at the heavens and then shook the negative thought away *Sod it. If it rained it rained. He'd deal. *  
  
Not giving the growing cloud cover another thought, the dark figure slung his equipment bag over his shoulder and made his way across the street. He paused for a moment, running his gaze over the impressive looking structure standing out in the darkness and at the sight before him, a low whistle of approval slipped through his lips. Even after being deserted for ten years, the house was still impressive, certainly not a building you would normally associate with such a small unimportant town.   
  
No nosy neighbours, no security cameras, and best of all, no yapping dogs to rain on his parade. Again experience had taught him the hard way that being bitten on the arse by an angry canine was not the best way to spend the evening. But his arse was safe. There were no visible signs of guard dogs that night.   
  
As he let his icy blue eyes flicker once more around the perimeter, mentally taking in all the possible escape routes, a small smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. *This was almost going to be too easy*  
  
Spike ran a gloved fingertip over the elaborate wrought-iron gate, and before he could prevent it, his traitorous memories had once again slipped back through the pages of time. Cordelia Chase and her family had once lived at this address, he recalled. Her father was a politician. A senator, or a governor, or something important like that. For a few seconds his mind fought to put a face to the name, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't place it. The dark-haired prom queen had not mixed in his circle of friends so it was hardly surprising that he couldn't remember her or the large fancy house she and her family had once occupied.   
  
Not that he needed to remember Crawford Street mansion. Before leaving L.A., Spike had thoroughly memorised the blueprints of the building and the area that surrounded it. If that wasn't enough information, he also had his clients' inside knowledge of the property. There was no way he could go wrong with trusting that information. Lilah's attention to detail was always beyond reproach.   
  
It was no secret that Lilah Morgan was a cold hearted, calculating bitch, but he couldn't fault her on her homework. Her research was always perfect and she never, ever made mistakes. As a human being, the woman was a total waste of space, but when it came to providing information, the brunette never disappointed him. In return, Spike never disappointed her. Lilah was the only person on the planet who could have persuaded him to return to Sunnydale. Their working relationship and the fact that she was paying him a small fortune for this assignment were the only reasons he was now standing in a place he truly despised.   
  
*So let's stop tripping down memory lane and get this bloody show on the road. * Spike berated himself, angrily. With a silent slam, deep inside his mind, the door to his past was once again firmly closed.   
  
The first obstacle to block his path was the wrought iron gate. Reaching his arms through the ornate framework, Spike scaled the antique structure with ease. With feline grace, he landed silently on both feet and after checking out all directions; he took off in a sprint through the unkempt grounds.   
  
On reaching the main building, Spike's first intention had been to climb the rickety ivy trellis that covered most of the far wall, but on closer inspection the aged foliage looked far too unstable. Without hesitation, he turned his attention to the second option. The lock on the ground floor window broke with a small click. He carefully lowered his black leather bag through then, as silent as a shadow, the dark clad intruder slipped his slender frame through the tight opening and lowered himself inside.  
  
*Get in, get out and get away*  
  
The room he found himself in was pitch-black. Once his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he reached into his bag and withdrew the few items of equipment he needed.   
  
With the help of a small flashlight, Spike moved quickly through the dark house, stealthily checking each room. He stopped on the top of the staircase, giving a quick sideways glance before proceeding along the upper landing. When he spotted a tiny flicker of light, emerging from beneath the door of the last room on the left, Spike clicked off the flash light and grinned to himself   
  
*Jackpot. *   
  
Without a sound, he slipped through the unlocked door and pressed his black clad body deep into the shadows. Cloaked in the darkness of the large room, Spike knew immediately he would not have to wait long.   
  
Soft sighs and low moans floated across the air.  
  
From his well-hidden position, Spike could see that the large master bedroom was only lit with a few scented candles, each casting a soft glow around the antique four poster bed. Completely unaware that their lives were about to be irreversibly ruined, the two occupants on the bed continued in ignorant bliss.   
  
"Come on. Come on. At least put your hands on her tits, you useless wanker." Spike silently ran the impatient plea through his head, wanting to get this part of his job over as soon as possible. A few more minutes and he could wave a final good riddance to Sunny-D once and for all.   
  
Almost as if they could read his thoughts, the couple entwined on the bed, changed direction and the dim candlelight now highlighted both of their profiles.   
  
*What the fuck? *  
  
Unable to believe his eyes, Spike froze. For the length of a single heartbeat he swore his mind was playing tricks on him; this couldn't possibly be happening. But then reality sank in.   
  
It was real.  
  
In that one second Spike Pennington truly felt as if Christmas, The Fourth of July and every one of his birthdays had come all at once.   
  
*Looks like God loves me after all. * The corner of Spike's mouth twisted up into maliciously smirk. * God and a smart ass bitch called Lilah Morgan*  
  
Spike's heart raced with possibilities. He would definitely have to find a way to thank the cold-hearted lawyer for gifting him with this unexpected opportunity.   
  
*What could he give a woman who has just answered eighteen years of prayers? * Spike bit so deeply into his bottom lip that he tasted blood.  
  
Flowers, chocolates, maybe the odd orgasm or three. No, strike the last part. His mind was fast slipping into overdrive. The answer came to him in a flash. He would give the bitch something far better than a box of candy. She could keep his whole sodding fee for this. After what he had just witnessed, this job was well and truly on the house.   
  
Spike flicked his tongue across his lower lip and sucked the small trickle of blood he found there into his mouth. No wonder Lilah had been so excited about getting this photograph. If this little scandal ever saw the cold light of day, lives would be ruined.   
  
At the thought of how high profile this scandal could go, and the damage that could be inflicted, Spike's fingers itched in glee. Every tabloid in the land would queue up to run the story. And for him that wasn't even the best part.   
  
*What a wanker*  
  
Darla Adams was hardly your everyday bit on the side. The award-winning soap actress was definitely a class above your normal piece of skirt  
  
*Reputations would be ruined, not to mention a marriage. *  
  
Feeling truly alive for the first time in almost twenty years, Spike silently lifted his camera and took aim. With a second smirk and a heart filled with jubilation, he clicked down the shutter.   
  
Revenge had never tasted so sweet.   
  
TBC... 


	2. Part one Revenge loves company

Chapter One   
  
Revenge loves company   
  
Los Angeles:   
  
7: 17am   
  
Sunlight, bright, rich and vibrant streamed in through the large glass windows, flooding the impressive conference room with a soft golden glow.   
  
From the twenty-third floor of Manners and Macdonald, the view of the city was truly spectacular, but rarely appreciated. Today was no exception. After working all night in darkness, first in Sunnydale and then later in the confines of his darkroom, Spike found the warm rays now washing over his fair skin a pleasant change from the cool night air.   
  
For the eternal night owl, being up and awake at that time of the morning was extremely rare. In point of fact, Spike honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd taken the opportunity to watch the dawn break over the horizon. Working all night and then crashing until noon were common practice for the private investigator. It wasn't the best of lives, but it made ends meet and every now and again something unexpected made his sad existence just about worth living.   
  
*Like last night, and catching that prick with his pants down*   
  
The memory from the previous evening sent a huge surge of satisfaction through his veins. The thought that he might actually get his retribution, his *one good day* after all this time was intoxicating.   
  
Closing his eyes and rubbing the tension at his temples, Spike continued to stand in front of the large glass panes. As the pleasant morning glow caressed his tired eyelids he tuned out the rest of world and let his weary body soak up the warmth.   
  
The jaunt to Sunnydale, while profitable beyond his wildest imagination, had left him feeling exhausted. Not so much physically, but emotionally. His thoughts were in turmoil. Spike knew that even if he had found a spare hour after developing his negatives, it wasn't worth closing his eyes.   
  
*So much for banishing the past.* The thought almost made him laugh out loud.  
  
Far from exorcising his ghosts, the visit to Sunnydale had not only resurrected them; it had turned the fuckers corporeal.  
  
*How bloody ironic was that?*  
  
As Spike's fingertips dug deeper into his temples, inadvertently releasing tension that had been stored away for almost eighteen years, his guard slipped and an unwanted wave of nostalgia washed up and flooded into his mind. Knowing it was too late to prevent it, he let out a weary sigh and resigned himself to the pain. It was one of his better memories, the one that always stole into his thoughts whenever his defences were low.   
  
Sunnydale High School. 1984  
  
Lounging idly against the wall, Spike's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the small blonde girl holding out her hand. He sucked his tongue between his teeth, tilted his head to the left, and decided that maybe the next two years at Sunnydale high weren't going to be so bad after all.  
  
Being on the wrong side of the pond was beginning to look better and better.  
  
"Hi. I'm Buffy, Buffy Summers. You must be.."   
  
"Impressed, love. The word you're looking for would be *impressed*" Spike interrupted, with a seductive purr. He smiled and his bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief as they danced over the female's petite frame.  
  
The girl was a real stunner, he thought, as his tongue snaked out across his dry bottom lip.  
  
Keeping his eyes low, he studied her tanned legs for a moment, then his gaze strayed upwards to her breasts, finally settling on her face. Spike could see from the pink flush in her cheeks that his leering was making her uneasy, but he made no attempt to stop. Watching pretty girls squirm was always a fun way to pass the time.   
  
The first indication that he might have crossed the line came when the small blonde moved a step closer.   
  
She met his gaze and tiny chips of ice flashed in heated hazel orbs. Their eyes locked then, and Spike felt his breath catch in his throat as the rest of the world fell away.   
  
While Spike let go of gravity, Buffy merely glared. The expression she wore was so hard to read that for a moment, he actually feared for the safety of his nose. On the one hand, she looked so tiny and feminine, but there was also a real air of strength about her, a silent warning that if he took one more step over the line, she would make sure that he landed flat on his arse.   
  
From that one look, Spike knew that he had finally met his match. The tiny girl facing him wasn't about to take any of his macho bullshit.   
  
You didn't mess with Buffy Summers and walk away unbruised.  
  
The thought of apologising crossed his mind, but before he got a chance to open his mouth, the girl's expression changed, and the world didn't just fall away for Spike; it stopped turning completely.  
  
The girl with the face of an angel and a body built for sin did something totally unexpected. She laughed, and no matter how hard he tried, Spike Pennington wasn't capable of a single coherent thought.   
  
Never in his life had he seen anything more beautiful. He was instantly lost. Head over heels, cupid's arrow right in the heart, totally infatuated.... Lost.  
  
Meanwhile, Buffy, still completely unaware of the effect she was having on the bleached teen, stopped laughing.   
  
"I'm sorry. Look, Mr. Giles sent me. I'm looking for William, William Pennington." she explained "Being the only new student around here, I'm guessing that's you?" She offered out her hand again and waited.  
  
  
  
Spike blinked. He'd heard the question well enough, but sadly, coherent thought still wasn't registering enough for him to give an answer.   
  
Buffy waited a heartbeat.   
  
Still no reply.   
  
Not letting his silence discourage her, she continued.   
  
"Giles mentioned you were a little strange." she started, then lowered her voice. "Didn't say anything about you being simple." The last part was mumbled under her breath.   
  
Spell broken, Spike threw back his head and laughed.   
  
"Uncle Rupert's right, pet. Being strange seems to run in our family."   
  
Moving off the wall, Spike took a step closer. He offered his own hand then and their fingers gently brushed.   
  
"And just for the record, it's not William, Goldilocks," He flirted through his dark lashes, turning on the full Pennington charm.   
  
"It's Spike"   
  
Spike's sharp blue eyes snapped open and he realized how foolish it was to allow his mind to wander into such dangerous water, and he let go of the recollection. It took less than a heartbeat to exile the warm fuzzy thoughts from his mind, carefully locking them back where they rightly belonged.   
  
This had to stop. Spike berated himself, angrily.   
  
He needed to be clear headed this morning. There was no room here for fluffy thoughts . He needed to be hard and cold and utterly ruthless. He couldn't afford to let her in. He wouldn't let her in. Not yet. No until he was ready.   
  
Noticing the city below him for the first time that morning, Spike continued to gaze out of the window. This time he kept his mind fully focused not only on the present, but also on the delicious amount of havoc he was about to wreak.   
  
**  
  
8:12am.  
  
"You're late."   
  
Spike spoke quietly, still gazing out at the city below. He didn't need to turn around to know who had entered the room. The smell of expensive perfume hit his senses a full second before the sound of small heels.   
  
She didn't answer him, but he hadn't expected her to.  
  
Lilah Morgan walked straight over to the large conference table and slowly picked up the plain manila folder Spike had dropped there an hour earlier. With a flick of an elegant wrist she pulled open the flap and stared intensely at the contents inside.  
  
"I take it there were no problems?" the leggy brunette asked, never once removing her dark eyes from the file in her hands.  
  
Spike turned away from the window and shook his platinum head. "No problems, sweetheart," he said, his trademark smirk slashing across his handsome face. "Could have done the job in my sleep"   
  
Dressed in a white T-shirt and tight blue jeans, Spike Pennington looked at least five years younger than his thirty-six years. Running his hand through his tousled hair, he moved away from the shaft of sunlight that had been warming his skin all morning; and slowly approached the other person in the room.   
  
"Wanker's were so involved in doing each other, they had no idea I was even there." Spike smirked, at the memory. It was almost an understatement. A tornado could have ripped through Sunnydale that evening, and he would have bet the farm that the two lovebirds, boinking their socks off right in front of him, wouldn't have noticed.   
  
Darla was good. Angelus looked stoned.  
  
As he led her through the events of the previous night, Lilah listened intently .Without bothering to look up, she continued to flick through the file she was holding. Withdrawing several large black and white prints, her eyes lit up, and no matter how hard she tried to keep her composure, she couldn't help the small gasp that slipped through her lips. The prints were perfect.   
  
Lilah closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. This was a moment she wanted to savour; a moment she knew, in years to come, she would re-live over and over again.  
  
*At long last she had him.*  
  
With the incriminating evidence firmly clasped in her greedy hands, the lawyer finally let her emotions slip through the mask she wore so rigidly and she smiled.   
  
"You have a steady hand," she remarked. On changing the angle of the photograph, she then added a mischievously afterthought: "I swear, in this light I can almost see cellulite."   
  
Spike snorted at the exaggeration. The prints were good, but they weren't that good. There wasn't any sign of cellulite on the young woman in question.   
  
Not that Lilah Morgan was looking for cellulite. No, the only thing she was looking for was damnation, and with the very first print she pulled from the folder, the lawyer knew that Spike had struck gold.   
  
Darla Adam's well-known profile held center stage, but it wasn't the female's face that intrigued her. The man entwined in her arms, and between her slim legs was all she cared about. Liam Angelus, head of Wolfram and Hart, and the bane of her existence.   
  
*You ruined my life, so now I get to return the favour.*  
  
Lilah ran a perfectly manicured fingernail across the glossy picture, circling the face of Darla's companion. Liam Angelus had been a thorn in her side ever since he'd fired her from her lucrative position at Wolfram and Hart, three years earlier.   
  
Embezzlement was such a distasteful word. She silently seethed, at the handsome face behind the glossy sheen. Her hatred went deep.  
  
Once word of her dismissal from Wolfram & Hart surfaced and the rumours started, the legal community had shunned her with a vengeance. Her career was screwed. No decent law practice in Los Angeles would return her calls, and the direct approach just left their doors discreetly slammed in her face.   
  
Because of the prestige, Wolfram and Hart held, Lilah Morgan found herself an out-cast over night  
  
The suicide attempt was an accident, she told her few remaining friends, when she was finally allowed to leave the hospital. The glass was wet when it slipped; the identical cuts slicing through both of her wrists were simply coincidental.   
  
It had taken months of therapy and a position with Manners & Macdonald, acquaintances of her father, to finally get her life back on track  
  
How times had changed. The thought sent a warm shiver up her spine. Now Liam's life will be the one left in ruins.  
  
Lilah smiled again as she moved to the second photograph and took a closer look. It had taken awhile, years in fact, but after everything Angelus had done to her, payback was going to be a real sweet tasting bitch. With photographs like these, Angelus was the one who was now well and truly screwed.   
  
As Lilah continued to study the prints, the small smile curling her glossed lips blossomed into a full blown grin. Her beautiful dark eyes sparkled with satisfaction.  
  
From the moment she left the sanatorium, thoughts of revenge had taken over her whole life. Wiping that sanctimonious look off Angelus' face was all she could think about. Her hatred made her stronger. Lilah bid her time. Convincing her family that she was sane was the easy part. Letting the world around her forget how much Angelus had damaged her, that was a little harder. But she did it. While the rest of the world moved on, and forgot, Lilah Morgan made plans.   
  
In the end, much to her annoyance, she wasn't able to do it alone. That's where Spike came in. For the first time in her life she had no choice but to put her trust in another human being. If Spike had screwed up the previous night, Lilah knew her one chance for revenge would slip right through her fingers. But Spike had played his part to perfection.   
  
And so had Darla Adams and, to a lesser part, so had Angelus.   
  
Despite loving his wife and family to the point of annoyance, Liam had played right into her hands. After all, he was just a man. All it had taken was the right amount of manipulation. Separate him from his precious Buffy for a few months, throw a sex-starved siren in his direction, a few drinks, the right amount of Rohypnol, and there you have it, instant divorce.   
  
Not that the sting had been all plain sailing. Rebecca, the first actress she had thrown in his path, had failed miserably to make any impression. Lilah had been just about to change tactics when the answer to her twisted prayer sashayed right through the door of Manners and Macdonald, looking for legal representation.   
  
A cross between a Catholic schoolgirl and a two-cent hooker, the blonde actress was every straight male's wet dream. Ambitious and ruthless, Darla Adams was a cut above the rest of her profession. The first moment Lilah laid eyes on the talented young starlet, she knew she wouldn't fail a second time in bringing Angelus to his knees. And from the evidence, she was now holding, the lawyer congratulated herself on a very wise choice.   
  
Everything was coming together just as she planned.   
  
Lilah rose from where she was leaning against the table and with an almost feline grace, she moved closer to the man responsible for making it all possible  
  
"You did a good job, Spike. I'm impressed." Her voice lowered an octave and she practically purred.   
  
Spike sucked his tongue between his teeth. The predatory gleam in the Lilah's eyes told him she was more than just pleased with his work.   
  
"Very, very impressed."  
  
Ignoring the definite come on, Spike kept his emotional distance. "Knew you would be," he smirked back at the woman, but he made no other attempt to flirt.   
  
Spike wasn't blind or stupid. He knew she wanted him. Lilah had made it perfectly clear on more than one occasion that she found him attractive, but no matter how beautiful she was, and no matter how easy it would be to bend her over the desk, he knew it was never going to happen between them now.   
  
After the success of this last assignment, his life was going to be heading in a completely new direction - or maybe not so much a new direction as more of an old one. If this went as well as he planned, romantic entanglements with Miss Morgan, or any other of his female friends, would have to be put on hold.  
  
Digging through his coat pockets, Spike pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He lit one up and took a long drag   
  
"You might have mentioned that the other party in this little affair was Liam Angelus, pet." He spoke the words calmly, through a stream of white smoke. "If I'd known that little tidbit earlier I just might have cut my fee"   
  
Drawing in another lung full of nicotine, Spike's blue eyes looked across at the lawyer and a small smile cracked his lips. Now was not the time, but his employer would find out later that he had absolutely no intention of billing her for his services.   
  
Lilah felt her blood run cold.   
  
The sudden sound of Angelus' name caused her ears to perk up and the smile she was wearing to slip from her face.   
  
A well-shaped eyebrow raised. "You know Angelus?" she inquired, keeping any hint of suspicion from her voice. Beginning to hear the first chime of a warning bell, she turned her dark eyes and carefully studied the private investigator for any signs of duplicity. This wasn't part of her plan.   
  
She didn't like surprises. Not in her business life and not in her personal life, but especially not when she was just about to crucify her foe to the wall. Finally having the evidence she needed to destroy the bastard, Lilah didn't intend to watch it all fall apart at the very last moment.   
  
Before hiring his services, the female lawyer had carried out a thorough check on the bleached PI, but the truth was, despite freelancing for Manners & Macdonald for the last year, Spike Pennington was still somewhat of an enigma to her. He was reliable and discreet and his surveillance work was beyond reproach. That wasn't the problem. The lawyer knew everything she needed to know about the professional, but when it came down to the man behind the camera, it appeared that she was still very much in the dark.  
  
If aware that he was suddenly being interrogated he didn't show it. Spike's expression remained stoic. He took a moment to contemplate his answer. Sub-consciously, he raised his left hand and ran his fingertips lightly across the faint scar slicing through his left eyebrow.   
  
*Oh, he knew Angelus all right.*  
  
The raised skin beneath his fingertips was yet another reminder of a time he couldn't put behind him. Not yet, but soon. Soon he'd be the one leaving scars.  
  
When he finally did speak, the soft tone of his voice still gave nothing away. "Yeah, I know him." Spike raised his cigarette to his lips and, inhaling deeply, he pulled a rush of nicotine into his lungs. "Peaches and me, we go way back," he added cryptically.   
  
The reply left Lilah even more suspicious.   
  
"And it doesn't bother you that these photographs are going to destroy his life?" she asked, finally dropping the photographs down onto her desk. The handful of black and white prints spilled across the shiny surface, most of them landing glossy side up.   
  
Spike's gaze flickered to the clock on the wall and then back down to the black and white image of his once best friend.   
  
*I've already beaten you to it, pet. The fuse is already lit.*  
  
Spike silently rejoiced at the prospect of Liam's life imploding all around him, but before it gave him away, he took a firm hold of the emotion and buried it deep.  
  
He wasn't sharing. Lilah had her secrets, he had his.   
  
When he shrugged his shoulders with disinterest, Lilah silently cursed that his eyes were so unreadable. She liked Spike. She liked him a lot, but that wouldn't stop her from destroying him if he got in her way.  
  
If the two tortured souls could have known that they were after the same result, they would have laughed. But each kept quiet.   
  
Spike crushed out his cigarette into an ashtray and started to make his way towards the door. As he swaggered across the office and away from Lilah, his cool blue eyes flashed with contempt. Not that the lawyer noticed. Only his parting words, as he walked through the doorway, gave away any hint to his real feelings.  
  
Every syllable dripped in sarcasm.   
  
"Believe me, pet." his lip curled into a sneer, "this couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke."   
  
****   
  
SAME DAY  
  
In the suburbs of L.A.  
  
9:23am.   
  
"Dawn! Dawn! Don't forget your lunch," Buffy called out, running down the steps, holding a brown paper bag. Reaching the bottom step, she sighed out in frustration, as she watched her twelve-year-old daughter disappear from view. It was the third time that week, that Dawn had run off leaving something behind.   
  
First a book, then her sweater and now her lunch.  
  
Buffy shook her head and held back the grin she felt moving to her mouth. It had to be the child's age; her daughter's head was always in the clouds these days.   
  
*I'm sure I was never that absentminded*  
  
The sound of the door swinging open behind her pulled Buffy's thoughts away from her youngest child. This time she didn't resist the smile that tugged at her lips.  
  
Thank God for Conner, she thought fondly, as her son walked up and stood beside her. At least one of her children was level-headed.  
  
Conner's eye flickered to the brown paper bag still clutched firmly in Buffy's hand and knew at once that Dawn had run off yet again without her lunch.  
  
"Don't worry, mom. I'll take it." The boy bent his dark head and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. With a parting grin, the good-looking fourteen-year-old snatched up the lunch bag and trotted off after his younger sibling.   
  
"Have a good day!"  
  
Watching her children go off to school, Buffy smiled, contentedly.  
  
Where did the years go? She asked herself, but she already knew the answer to that question.  
  
  
  
Bake sales, little league, swimming practice. The list was never ending. Hockey games and ballet classes, not to mention homework. That's where the years went.   
  
With a small sigh, Buffy turned, but just as she was about to head back inside the house, the sound of her name stopped her in her tracks.   
  
"Morning Mrs. A. This one's special delivery, it's going to need a signature."   
  
She turned back and smiled at the man holding a handful of letters, and with a nod of understanding, Buffy accepted her small bundle of mail. She lowered her gaze to the large flat envelope, clearly marked *Photographs. Do not bend* and quirked a curious eyebrow.  
  
"This looks interesting." she replied.   
  
Taking the offered pen, Buffy quickly signed for the delivery. She spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries about the weather and after agreeing that it really was too hot for the time of year, she said goodbye and, once again, turned away.  
  
Walking back inside the house, Buffy ran her gaze, curiously over her mail. In the first years of their marriage, Angel would always send her letters whenever he was away on business. It made the long hours they were forced to spend apart slightly more bearable. Sadly, the age of technology had ended that romantic little gesture. E-mails now replaced the once personal love letters. It might be faster, but it wasn't the same. Buffy wouldn't ever tell him, but she missed the personal touch more than she thought possible.  
  
And while she was being honest with herself, it wasn't just the love letters that she missed. Buffy missed the man she married. Angel had changed so much this last year. Since becoming top man at Wolfram and Hart, it was almost like living with a stranger.   
  
Caught up with her children's hectic lives, it was impossible to place when the change started. Buffy couldn't quite put her finger on the problem, she didn't even know if there was a problem. It was just a feeling she sometimes got, a tiny niggle deep inside her mind that something wasn't right, as if something was missing between them.   
  
*Maybe it was her fault. Maybe it....*  
  
The sound of the phone ringing broke her out of her reverie.  
  
Dropping down into a chair, Buffy cradled the receiver in one hand while balancing her small pile of mail in the other.   
  
"Hey, B."   
  
"Faith?"   
  
Buffy smiled at the sound of his sister's voice. Although there were almost six years between them, the siblings were as close as sisters could be. It hadn't always been that way. As different as night and day, Faith was the rebel of the Summers' family. While Buffy had settled down and married the love of her life, Faith Summers had bummed her way around the world, falling in and out of love at the drop of a hat.   
  
A badly broken heart, six months earlier, had sent her running home to the only family she had left in the world. Faith cried, Buffy consoled, and from that day on, the two girls were inseparable. Meeting up for lunch whenever Angel was away on business was something they both looked forward to.   
  
On the other end of the phone line, Faith let out a deep theatrical sigh. " You won't believe what happened to me this morning."   
  
The sound of a match being struck and then deep inhaling gave away the first signs that the day hadn't started well. Faith only resorted to cigarettes under stress.   
  
Buffy could almost smell the acrid stench of smoke as she shook her head slightly. Twisting the phone cord around her fingers, she asked curiously, "What happened?"   
  
Faith sighed again. "Burst pipe. Can you believe it? I woke up this morning and found the whole damn basement underneath two feet of water. How the hell can one little hole let in so much water?" The dark-haired woman started to rant at the injustice of bad plumbing. Every possession she owned was now soaking wet.   
  
Buffy tried to suppress her laughter; she bit into her bottom lip, but still failed miserably. The thought of her younger sister knee deep in water was simply too funny to resist.   
  
"Did you call Xander?" she asked, still giggling. This was definitely a job for their childhood friend.   
  
At the mention of the builder's name, Faith's voice changed. This time her tone was softer. "Yeah, he said he'd be right over. That's why I was calling..."  
  
Buffy smiled again. No matter how much Faith tried to deny it, there was definitely some major sparkage going on between her sister and Xander Harris. Both had been hurt by difficult break-ups in the last few years and although they were hardly soul mates, they were good together.  
  
  
  
Faith's voice drifted back into her ear "Xander thinks I might need..."   
  
Still listening to her sister explain about the change in their plans, and the damage to all her worldly goods, Buffy started to open her mail. Most of it was junk, but the few letters that did need her attention, she carefully placed to one side. By the time her sister stopped ranting about ruined underwear, only the special delivery envelope was left to be opened.   
  
Buffy cradled the phone closer to her ear, needing both hands to pull open the heavy seal. Whoever it was from (and there didn't appear to be a return address on the back), certainly did a good job of packing the contents.  
  
"Is Angel still due back tonight? If he's not, we can always meet for lunch tomorrow," Faith asked, considering their options.  
  
"Yes. He'll be here in just over five and half-hours. Not that I'm counting" Buffy chuckled softly. Still pulling the security tape from the package, she added.  
  
"Not tonight, because, well, big smooches planned, but maybe later in the week, you could bring Xander over for dinner and...." With a final flick of her wrist, the seal finally gave way and offered up its contents. Buffy tilted her head in curiosity; her eyes widened a fraction and her voice slipped into a horrified whisper.   
  
"What the... Oh God. "  
  
Forgetting that Faith was still on the other end of the line, Buffy fully withdrew the first photograph. As the familiar faces came into full view, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the haunting black and white images.   
  
*Darla.*  
  
*Angel.*  
  
The first thought that flew through her mind was that it couldn't possibly be real. It had to be somebody's idea of a sick joke.   
  
*Angel didn't fool around.*  
  
*He didn't cheat. Not on her. Never on her. *  
  
The denial sounded believable the first time she tried it, but it didn't last. Sadly, the rational side of Buffy's brain already knew the awful truth.   
  
This was no mistake. The only joke was on her.   
  
Buffy's stomach churned violently as her marriage disintegrated in front of her eyes. A wave of devastation, so extreme that it made her bones ache, flooded through her and splintered right down to her soul.   
  
*This explained everything.*  
  
Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to cry. Buffy knew that if she started there was a real fear that she'd never be able to stop.  
  
"B?" Faith's concerned voice traveled down the line and broke into her pain.   
  
When she received no reply she asked again, a little more forceful "Buffy. Are you all right?"  
  
  
  
Buffy couldn't breath. Still unable to tear her eyes away, she watched almost in slow motion as the photographs slipped from her fingers and scattered to the floor.   
  
"B? Quit scaring the crap out of me."  
  
Not trusting her voice, Buffy took forever to answer her sister. She took a deep breath, but the voice still came out in a shaky rush.  
  
"Something's come up, Faith. I'll call you back tomorrow" Buffy didn't give the other woman time to argue. She put the receiver down and for the next hour, she sat blankly staring into space.  
  
TBC  
  
I'm sure everyone already knows, but just in case, *Rohypnol* is a date rape drug. 


	3. What Goes Around Comes Around

Falling Into yesterday.  
  
Chapter Two.  
  
What Goes Around Comes Around.   
  
Due to the heavy amount of traffic that morning, Faith Summer's initial fear that it would take her forever and a day to drive the few miles across town, appeared to be coming true. Swerving carelessly from one lane to another, she cursed the air blue at the amount of time her short journey seemed to be taking.   
  
Despite Buffy's reassurance that she would call back the following day, Faith knew instinctively that there was something seriously wrong with her older sibling. She could physically feel the pain radiating from her sister, vibrating its way along the telephone line.   
  
It wasn't the first time that Faith had experienced the strange phenomenon. From the tender age of five, the small girl had always known when something was hurting her sister. When twelve-year old Buffy fell off a wall and broke her leg in two places, her six-year-old sibling had limped for a week.   
  
Now that they were adults, the experience didn't happen as often. The last time Faith had felt it was the morning that Dawn was born. Thanks to Buffy's labour pains, she had known about the birth a whole hour before Angel had called with the good news.   
  
For that reason, and that reason alone, Faith Summers never doubted what her senses told her.   
  
And her senses were now screaming out loud and clear.  
  
Alarm bells, the size of Big Ben, started ringing the second Buffy ended their conversation. When her return call received no reply, Faith didn't waste another second in reaching for her jacket and car keys.   
  
All thoughts of Xander Harris rushing over to fix her burst pipe were forgotten as she slammed the door on her flooded apartment and jumped into her car.   
  
The moment Faith pulled into Main Street she realized, much to her annoyance, that she couldn't have chosen a worse time of day if she'd tried. The rush hour traffic that morning was nothing short of horrendous. After thirty minutes of going nowhere, and stuck at a red light for the third change, Faith pulled out her cell phone and dialed her sister's number.   
  
Despite ringing endlessly, there was still no answer.   
  
She waited a few minutes, impatiently drumming her well manicured finger nails on the steering wheel, then with a sigh of frustration, she snatched the cell phone back from where she had thrown it, and hit the redial.   
  
"Pick up the damn phone, B." Faith muttered to herself, as her concern for her sister started to grow. She closed her eyes for a second and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger.   
  
*Think, dammit. She can't just fall off the face of the earth. Someone must know where she is.*  
  
The silent nudge did the trick.  
  
If she couldn't reach Buffy, then maybe she could find someone who could.   
  
Faith was half way through calling Angel, when she suddenly remembered that he was flying back from New York that morning. She reluctantly cancelled the call, knowing it wouldn't be fair to alarm him before she even knew what the problem was.  
  
"Okay, not Angel." Her finger continued to press through her address book.   
  
Willow, Buffy's best friend was still on holiday in London, so not only did that rule her out, it also ruled out Tara.   
  
Faith glanced at her wristwatch. She considered calling Xander, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. Harris was probably knee deep in flood water by now, so it was pointless asking him.  
  
In desperation, Faith hit the button for Wolfram and Hart and almost cried when she heard Wesley's engaged signal.   
  
"Shit"  
  
Cursing loudly, the cell phone slammed into the passenger's seat as her last nerve started to fray.   
  
The lights up ahead changed to green, but when the car in front of hers still didn't move, Faith lost it. In a flash of temper, she hit the horn hard, sending out a long loud blast.   
  
*This was ridiculous.* At this rate she could have made the journey faster on foot.   
  
Looking up, Faith noticed that the car in front of hers still hadn't made any attempt to pull forward.  
  
"Move you fricking ass!" she yelled, as her hand once again sent out an annoying blast.   
  
The two fingered salute she received from the male in the stationary vehicle almost had her leaping from her car and pounding the unfortunate motorist into the middle of the next week. Ten years earlier, she wouldn't have hesitated, but that was the old Faith Summers. The one who was constantly getting into scrapes and always had to rely on Buffy to rush in and save the day. The new version of Faith Summers didn't do that any more.   
  
*This time Buffy needs you,* she reminded herself sternly, withdrawing her hand from the door.   
  
With the possibility of violence ruled out, Faith took a deep calming breath, counted to ten, and then, not knowing what else she could do, snatched up her cell and hit redial button one last time.   
  
***   
  
One hour and ten minutes later.  
  
*She had been right. She really could have walked faster.*  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
Faith called out anxiously, as she pushed open the front door. Closing it behind her, she slipped her spare key back into her jacket pocket.  
  
"B?"  
  
Not hearing a reply, she continued into the house.   
  
The kitchen was empty. The breakfast dishes were still on the table but, apart from that, everything else looked normal.  
  
Scanning the empty room she hesitated for a moment wondering if anyone was actually home. For the first time that morning Faith started to question her feelings.   
  
*Maybe she had read the signs wrong. Maybe she...*  
  
Her thoughts drifted away as she reached the next room.   
  
She hadn't been wrong.  
  
The scene that greeted her, when she walked into the living room, caused the blood in her veins to run cold. Her sister, looking nothing short of devastated, sat huddled on the sofa, her thin arms wrapped protectively around her small frame.   
  
Faith lowered her eyes. The evidence of Buffy's heartache lay scattered at her feet. A small frown started at the corner of her lips. She didn't need to be a mastermind to piece together what had happened. One glance told the whole story  
  
"Son of a bitch," she cursed.  
  
As Faith scanned the damaging images in total disbelief, a red mist descended over her dark brown eyes. A violent urge, to castrate her cheating brother-in-law and nail his straying dick to the kitchen wall, ignited deep inside of her and it took every ounce of will power not to grab the first sharp object she could lay her hands on to hunt the low-life down. Buffy didn't deserve this. She was a good wife and the perfect mother and no reason on earth would justify this betrayal.   
  
"I'll kill him." The words slipped out between her clenched teeth.  
  
Faith was incensed. Nobody did this to her sister. Not if they wanted to continue peeing in the standing position.   
  
As if coming out of a trance, Buffy slowly glanced up. She shifted uneasily and Faith shivered. Their eyes met, and Faith felt a tiny thread, deep inside her heart, snap. Buffy was broken. The empty shell looking back at her was a million miles away from the bright, vibrant woman she had lunched with a few days earlier. At first she struggled to put her finger on what had changed. Then it hit her. It was the light. All the light had faded from her sister's eyes. Unable to bear the emptiness she saw reflected in her sister's gaze, Faith quickly made her way across the room.  
  
"I'm so sorry, B." she said quietly  
  
Her face was full of sympathy as she slid onto the sofa beside the small blonde woman and held out her arms.   
  
Without hesitation, Buffy fell willingly into her embrace. Her small voice cracking as she sobbed.  
  
"I can't breathe, Faith. I feel like I can't breathe."   
  
****   
  
Two hours, and a large box of tissues later, Buffy was able to regained her composure just enough to convince her sister that she was safe to be left on her own. While strongly against the idea, Faith reluctantly accepted that Buffy should confront Angel on her own. She was no longer worried for her sister; Buffy was strong, she would survive, but there were others that needed to be taken into consideration. After agreeing to collect Dawn and Conner from school and take them back with her for the night, she hugged Buffy one last time and left.   
  
****   
  
Buffy watched from the window as the sun slowly worked its way down the garden, casting dim shadows as it silently slipped away. Her garden was beautiful at this time of year, full of vibrant colour and subtle fragrances, but the view that evening held no interest for her. Buffy wasn't in any frame of mind to appreciate any of the beauty she usually found solace in.  
  
Angel was late.   
  
Hours late she realised, as the last rays of sunshine disappeared over the horizon, taking with it all the warmth of the day.   
  
*Maybe he wouldn't come home at all. Would that be for the best?*  
  
Standing alone with only trepidation for company, Buffy felt totally empty inside. Her eyes stung and bitter tears burned the back of her throat but, as the day wore on agonizingly, she made a stern promise to herself that she wouldn't cry. Tears would return later, that she was sure of. But not now, not until the worst of this dreadful day was over.   
  
As the longest hours of her life continued to crawl by, the small blonde remained standing by the window, patiently waiting for the world as she knew it, to come crashing down around her ears. The wait was almost over. She didn't know how she knew it, but she could feel it in her bones.  
  
Another thirty minutes slipped by. Then, six hours later than expected, Angel's car pulled into driveway.   
  
From her position at the window she watched as the headlights switched off.   
  
Buffy shivered as a chill ran through her, colder than an Arctic storm. She wrapped her arms around her small frame and pushed away the thought that she would never feel warmth again.   
  
The time for self-pity was over.  
  
*10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.....*  
  
She squared her small shoulders, and took a deep, calming breath.  
  
*1.*  
  
ShowTime.   
  
Buffy didn't make a sound as she waited for Angel to enter the room. In her hands, the incriminating envelope was gripped so tightly that her fingers were almost numb.   
  
Numb was good.   
  
"Buffy"  
  
The sound of his voice floated through the door and her heart sank.  
  
"Sorry I am late." Angel placed his leather briefcase down next to the chair and with a weary sigh, he proceeded to remove his jacket. "The traffic from the airport was hell," he explained, as he draped his jacket over the back of a chair and then pulled at the knot in his tie.   
  
It wasn't a complete lie. The traffic from the airport had been heavy, but that wasn't the real reason for his late return. The twenty-four hour jaunt to Sunnydale had played a major part in his delay.   
  
Feeling utterly disgusted with himself, Angel tried to push the memory, albeit a very vague memory, to the back of his mind. Forgetting the actual sex wouldn't be that difficult, since he couldn't remember it in the first place.   
  
But living with the guilt?   
  
That wasn't fun.  
  
Living with a guilty conscious was something Angel had been forced to do once before. But unlike then, this time he would have to carry the burden alone.  
  
*Thank God his shoulders were broad.*  
  
While Angel silently fought with his demons, Buffy, on the other side of the room, was still not ready to face her husband. Despite waiting all day, she found she still needed a few more moments to get her emotions firmly under control.   
  
As the rapid beat of her heart slowed, she heard the familiar clink of ice, quickly followed by the sound of liquid filling a glass. Scotch on the rocks. Double measure. The classic signs of a stressful trip. Buffy almost laughed. After tonight, the word stressful would have to have a new definition in the Angelus' household.   
  
Stressful was going to be a walk in the park. Whatever had pissed him off before, would be nothing compared to the apocalypse he was about to face in the comfort of his own four walls.  
  
Still oblivious to the fact that his world was about to change forever, Angel poured a second drink and this time, he sipped the amber liquid a little more slowly.   
  
When his wife finally turned away from the window, he missed the anguish that lingered in her eyes. If he had witnessed the emotion, he might have been better prepared for the devastation that was to follow. As it was, his world came crashing down with absolutely no warning at all.   
  
Buffy took a step towards him. Although her heart was breaking, she managed to hide it well. She held out the large envelope that had ruined her life and, when she spoke, her calm voice completely belied her emotions.   
  
"I received this today, special delivery." Her hand trembled slightly as she offered her husband the evidence of his adultery. "Maybe you would like to explain; what the hell is going on?" Buffy demanded.  
  
Biting hard into her bottom lip, she waited for the answer that would probably damn them to the divorce courts.   
  
Almost in slow motion, Angel's glass fell from his fingers and shattered on the floor at his feet. A look of utter disbelief slipped into his dark brown eyes and for at least ten seconds, all he could do was stare at the photographs Buffy was holding in her hand. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but then closed it again. What, after all, could he possibly say? There was no denying the evidence. Three large black and white prints clearly showing his infidelity with Darla spoke louder than any words.   
  
Lowering his head, he ran a hand nervously through his hair.  
  
"It's-" Angel hesitated, but only briefly. "It's complicated," he finished, knowing that no matter what he said now, he was already condemned. Plug in the chair, he was about to be fried.   
  
Complicated, might have been the first word to come to his mind, but it also had to be the understatement of the year. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, Angel had found Darla Adams more than attractive, but despite her alluring appeal, he had never intended their relationship to go as far as it had. Working together so closely over the last twelve months, he and Darla had built up a close friendship but, for Angel, the two of them becoming lovers had never been part of the equation.   
  
*Buffy was his whole world; nothing on earth would make him put his relationship with his wife in jeopardy.*  
  
Angel silently cursed himself for being a fool. He should have known better. The signs were all there, but he'd been too blind or too stupid to see them. Until it was too late, that was. Now his stupidity could very well cost him his marriage. He could lose Buffy, lose his children, and no matter what reason he came up with, he feared there was nothing he could do to stop it. Closing his eyes for a moment, Angel forced himself to remain calm.  
  
He failed.  
  
For the first time in his life, Liam Angelus was truly terrified.   
  
Buffy remained silent, still holding the envelope and its damning contents in her small hand. As he watched Buffy cling to her self control by the edge of her fingertips, Angel knew that she wouldn't wait much longer for an answer; but in all honesty, he was at a total loss at where to begin. How could he explain a situation to his wife that he still didn't understand himself? Although the actual events of the previous evening were a blur, there was one thing he knew with absolute certainty: Waking up in bed next to Darla should never, ever have happened.   
  
It's complicated.  
  
For Buffy, Angel's cryptic admission, although expected, still sliced painfully through her heart.   
  
She looked at him long and hard and, for the second time that day, she found herself wondering who this stranger was that appeared to be wearing her husband's face. It couldn't possibly be Angel. Angel didn't do complicated. He didn't cheat.   
  
*But he had.* The truth screamed out loud and clear. *He had.*  
  
Angel glanced back at the photos and wondered for the first time, where the hell they had come from. If he hadn't been so busy trying to save his marriage, he might have started to think about ulterior motives. But his guilt blinded him, and the thought that someone could be out to destroy him, was temporarily lost in the confusion.  
  
"Please, Buffy. This is not what you think"   
  
If her heart hadn't been breaking so badly, Buffy would have laughed.  
  
"Well, that's a relief," she answered sarcastically. "Because for a second there, I was beginning to think that you were having an affair." Her fingers tightened around the prints, forcing her manicured nails to score the delicate paper.   
  
Angel lowered his eyes in shame as the sarcastic words punctured him like a stake through the heart.   
  
Oblivious to his pain, Buffy continued to glare at her husband, desperately trying to hide the fact that the thought of him being with another woman was eating her alive. As the love of her life stood before her, unable to deny his infidelity, the small blonde wanted to scream. It felt like only yesterday that Angel was pledging that he would love her until the end of time. Forever, that's what he had promised. Forever. What a joke.  
  
*When did forever end?* Buffy asked herself painfully.   
  
When Angel finally looked up, the torment he saw reflected in his wife's eyes wrenched him to his very soul. The fact that his actions were responsible for putting it there, cut him deeply.  
  
"It's not an affair." He tried to justify himself, but failed miserably.   
  
He closed his eyes, took a breath and tried again.  
  
"The whole thing was a mistake. Darla wanted my advice on a property she was interested in buying. When the New York meeting ended earlier than expected, we flew down to view it. It was late; we stopped for a few drinks, and then," his voice lowered. "I guess one thing led to another. I don't know." Angel trailed off, knowing that with each word he was digging his grave a little deeper. There was no reason on earth that Buffy would understand. No excuse she would accept.  
  
Angel stopped looking for one.   
  
"You have to believe me. I never wanted this." His hand gestured towards the photos and he shook his head, sadly.   
  
"It just.." He swallowed deeply. " It happened."   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow in consideration.  
  
"So this was a one night stand?" she asked. Her voice was still remarkably calm despite the despair swirling inside.   
  
"No. I mean yes... I..." Angel hesitated again. The guilt he felt was radiating from him in waves.   
  
The hesitation was a serious mistake.  
  
"So, was that a yes or was that a no?" Buffy raised her voice an octave, the expression on her face challenging him to speak the truth. No matter what the answer was, she knew she wouldn't like it, but she needed it. She needed the pain to get though this ordeal. The pain would make her stronger.   
  
Angel's voice was barely a whisper.  
  
"Once. It was just once, but never again." Still unable to meet her eyes, Angel kept his gaze transfixed on the photographs. He felt sick to his stomach. It was a stupid drunken fling, a fuck he couldn't even remember, but now there was a real possibility that he had just ruined his whole life.   
  
Buffy eyes followed the path of his gaze and once again she tortured herself with the intimate vision.   
  
*It was just once, but never again.*  
  
As the reality of Angel's betrayal penetrated deeper into her heart and soul, her emotions started to change. Pain and despair were slowly replaced by a much darker feeling.   
  
Anger was born.  
  
*It was just once, but never again.*  
  
Her newfound emotion took its first breath and started to grow. He's lying. It insisted, contaminating her thoughts as it flooded into her mind. The intimacy captured by the camera proves that's he's lying. It taunted and thrived.  
  
Buffy shook her head and forced herself to look back at her husband.   
  
"And you expect me to believe that?" She laughed, but there wasn't any humour in the sound. "You've been following this woman around like she was a bitch in heat for months now. Darla this. Darla that. I must have been blind, or stupid, not to see how infatuated you were with her."   
  
When Angel's head shot up, the look of utter disbelief was back in his chocolate orbs.  
  
"You're wrong. Darla's an important client. She's..."   
  
Buffy interrupted quickly  
  
"She's a cheap whore."   
  
"She needed my help."   
  
The anger that Buffy had been carefully nurturing then matured into full adolescence as a surge of fury flowed through her small body. It was inconceivable that her husband was still trying to defend the marriage-wrecking bitch.  
  
"Angel, you're the Chief Executive Officer at Wolfram and Hart, you're not a baby sitter for the depressed and desperate. Wesley or Charles could have dealt with the little diva, but no, you had to become her shining white knight." Buffy took a breath and as the picture became painfully clear, she continued. "Did she cry? - Pouty lips - heaving bosom?" her voice became hard. "She didn't need you, you idiot. She wanted you, so she had you."  
  
At her heated words, a fresh wave of guilt washed over Angel. Every word Buffy said was true. Wesley or Gunn could easily have dealt with the flirtatious actress. Both men were single, and neither had anything to lose. Not like him. He had everything to lose.  
  
"I won't see her again." Angel offered with such open sincerity that, despite her anger, Buffy couldn't help but believe him.   
  
He held her gaze, silently pleading for a second chance, but Buffy shook her head, sadly. "It's too late," she whispered.  
  
The words caused her heart to crack wide open, but she couldn't help how she felt. Some things in life were unforgivable. This was one of them.   
  
When her husband opened his mouth to protest, she raised her hand to stop him.   
  
"I've always trusted you, Angel." She swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in her throat. "After everything we.." As the words slipped past her lips, a distant memory, of a time best forgotten, raised its ugly head and despite desperately trying to side step it, Buffy felt a rush of shame flush into her pale cheeks.   
  
She took a breath. Pushed the memory away.  
  
"After everything we went through to be together," she continued, "I always trusted you not to break my heart."   
  
A cold shiver ran the length of Angel's spine. He didn't like the direction this conversation was heading one little bit. The same memories that Buffy was busy pushing away tried to invade his mind, but he closed them out. Angel had enough guilt to live with at the moment; the last thing he needed was to be reminded of past sins.  
  
"Buffy.."  
  
Angel stared, but one look at his wife's expression told him that anything he said at that moment would be a mistake.   
  
Her final words confirmed his worst fear.  
  
" I can't trust you any more," Buffy trailed off, unable to say anymore. She knew that despite her best efforts, her voice now sounded as broken and as betrayed as she felt.   
  
Despising himself for the hurt he heard in her voice, Angel took a step closer. " I never meant to hurt you," he pleaded softly. His sad brown eyes begged for forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve.  
  
When his hand reached out and touched her arm, Buffy flinched and pulled back.  
  
"Don't touch me."   
  
The coldness in her eyes startled him. In sixteen years of marriage he had never once seen that look directed towards him. Angel was used to seeing warmth and passion, and love whenever Buffy looked in his direction. It broke his heart that those emotions were no longer alive in her beautiful eyes.  
  
Angel pulled his fingers back.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, sadly. "I'm so sorry, Buffy"   
  
At the sound of his voice, Buffy felt her emotions change one last time. She took a small breath and felt the red mist that had previously consumed her, slip away.   
  
"I can't do this any more," she sighed. All the anger and bitterness was now gone from her voice; only the sound of sadness remained.   
  
Angel opened his mouth to speak but before he could start, Buffy held up her hand again, once more bringing his words to a close.  
  
Their eyes locked, and the look that passed between them spoke volumes. Buffy was the first to break away.  
  
"I want you to leave."   
  
"But-"   
  
Buffy cut him off.  
  
"Please, Angel." Something deep inside her died. " Just go."   
  
The room fell silent.  
  
With a nod of his head, Angel sighed heavily. He didn't say another word as he reached for his jacket and turned away. Reaching the door, he hesitated for a second. Angel closed his eyes, his heart silently begging for Buffy to stop him.   
  
He knew that, once the door was closed, there was no going back. Their lives would never be the same.   
  
On the other side of the room, tears flooded Buffy's eyes, blurring her vision. But no matter how much her broken heart was protesting, she didn't move.   
  
Angel waited a heartbeat, and then reluctantly, accepting her decision, he closed the door behind him.   
  
Alone, and with her marriage in tatters, Buffy took a deep breath and could hardly believe it was possible to feel that devastated and still carry on breathing.  
  
With the sight of the door closing, she felt her knees start to give way. Not able to find the strength she needed to remain standing, Buffy sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. Now was the time for tears.   
  
Angel was gone.  
  
As her heart shattered into a million shards of grief, a ghostly voice from her past chose that precise moment to slip back into her mind and taunt her heartache.   
  
*You two truly deserve each other.*  
  
****   
  
TBC.. Part 3 is coming soon. Buffy, Angel, and Spike. All their unsavory history will be brought into the cold light of day ;) 


	4. The Point of No return

Chapter Three.  
  
The Point of No Return.  
  
SUNNYDALE   
  
1986.   
  
With a small sigh, Buffy Summers pushed open the bedroom door and quickly made her way across the room. The bedroom was warm and dimly lit, the only light coming from a full moon shining directly outside the window, but the moonlight was more than enough illumination for what she needed.   
  
Despite the late hour, and the time of year, the temperature inside the room was still uncomfortable.   
  
Buffy ran a hand through her long blonde hair, pushing the silky strands away from her face and back behind her ear. As she continued to move across the room, she scrunched up her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. Even with the door wide open, the scent of stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Buffy, despite dating a smoker for almost two years, still disliked the lingering smell. There were times when she seriously doubted she ever would ever get used to it.   
  
Deciding that the place needed airing, not just for her benefit, but also for the person spending the night there, she opened the nearest window and threw back the curtains as far as they would go. Immediately, the soft evening breeze floated through the open window and gently caressed its way over her bare shoulders.  
  
Buffy took a deep breath, closed her eyes and for the length of a single heartbeat, she allowed the cool night air to wash over her heated skin. At any other time in her life, Buffy would have taken full advantage of the moonlight, the soft breeze and the romantic setting, but not this night.   
  
Her date that evening had started full of promise. A night at the Bronze, wrapped in her boyfriend's arms had the word romance stamped all over it. But sadly, due to circumstances beyond Buffy's control, the evening had quickly spiralled downhill and romance was now the last thing on her mind.   
  
She bit into her bottom lip as she reflected on the disastrous evening. Things in the romance department were not looking good, Buffy thought sadly.   
  
Standing by the window, bathed in moonlight, she didn't have very long to dwell. The sudden sound of movement behind her, a set of heavy footsteps entering the room, quickly brought Buffy back to reality.   
  
Without a word, the small blonde turned away from the window and moving a few feet to the right, she hurriedly pulled back the pale blue covers from her boyfriend's bed. Once the bedding was in order, Buffy turned to her accomplice and when she finally spoke, her small voice, along with her large hazel eyes, were filled with gratitude.  
  
"Thanks for helping, Angel. I would never have got him home on my own." Buffy took a few steps to the side, giving the taller of the two men, now occupying the space behind her, room to manoeuvre.   
  
Angel's lips curved up with the hint of a smile "I'm glad I could help," he answered quietly, and then watched as the small blonde girl turned away from him and disappeared into another room.   
  
When she was completely out of sight, Angel's expression changed. "I'll always be here for you, Buffy." This time his words were barely a whisper. The quiet, solemn promise not meant for anyone's ears but his own.   
  
Always.  
  
Angel shook his head sadly and sighed deeply. This really has to stop, the sane part of his mind tried to shout out, but despite its resolve, it didn't shout very loudly.   
  
Turning his attention back to the burden he was supporting, he lowered his shoulder. With a slight twist of his knee, Angel unceremoniously dropped Spike's dead weight onto his bed; then, fearing the possibility of projectile vomit he quickly stepped away.   
  
A soft groan came up as the unconscious figure hit the mattress, but other than that, the intoxicated teenager appeared to be dead to the world.   
  
Angel's dark gaze flickered towards the bathroom and then returned to his best friend's sleeping face.   
  
"You really are the world's biggest idiot, Pennington. You're going to lose her and..." Realising his words were falling on deaf ears, or rather unconscious ears, Angel stopped. Even if Spike were awake he doubted his lecture would make a difference. His friend couldn't see it, let alone prevent it, but Spike Pennington was on a short road to destruction.  
  
How could anyone in his right mind bear to lose Buffy? Angel eyes returned to the bathroom door. If she were mine, I'd move mountains to keep her. I'd... Dammit! Cursing his traitorous train of thought, Angel stopped again. She's not yours, his consciousness reminded him. She'll never be yours, so do yourself a favour and get the hell away from her.  
  
Once again a deep sigh slipped through Angel's lips and he shook his head. Could his life be any more complicated? He wondered, but sadly, he already knew the answer.  
  
Angel was just about to turn and run, for his life, or even his sanity, when Buffy's voice floated out from the room next door and broke into his thoughts.   
  
"Thank goodness you were at the Bronze tonight. I couldn't face the thought of calling Giles again," she called, as the sound of cupboards being opened and closed filled the air.   
  
Although he couldn't be seen, Angel nodded his head in agreement. The prospect of calling Spike's uncle wasn't something he wanted to be involved in either. Looking back at his sleeping friend, the dark haired teenager frowned. "I wouldn't want to be in Spike's shoes if you did," he replied truthfully.   
  
Angel liked Rupert Giles. He had always considered him a really decent man, but lately, it was hardly the world's best kept secret that the mild-mannered librarian was fast running out of patience with the antics of his wayward nephew.   
  
At the rate Spike was going, the teenager was going to find himself shipped back to England faster than he could say *Rule Britannia*. It all seemed rather ironic. Two years earlier, Spike would have been delighted at the prospect of going back home. He hated America, especially Sunnydale. With its tiny population and its almost non existent nightlife, the young British teen swore that if his uncle forced him to stay for three full years, he was almost certain to die of boredom.   
  
His attitude changed almost overnight. Angel knew that if Giles ever did carry out his threat to send the young man back to his family, Spike would be devastated. Contrary to his endless whining, everything Spike Pennington held close to his heart was now on this side of the ocean.   
  
Buffy Summers was on this side of the ocean.   
  
Angel frowned as his thoughts came full circle. This really, really, REALLY, has to stop. His head tried once more to make him see sense, but his heart was still stubbornly refusing to listen.   
  
"Found it!"  
  
With a triumphant smile, Buffy returned from the bathroom and placed the bucket she had been hunting for down by the side of Spike's bed. As her gaze travelled over her sleeping boyfriend, she contemplated removing his boots, but not wanting to risk waking him, or even shaking him, Buffy quickly decided against it.   
  
Liam Angelus, on the other hand, was nowhere near as considerate.   
  
With a not so gentle tug, he rolled the dead weight over onto his side and proceeded to pull the sleeves of his friend's precious leather duster down his arms. Once free of its owner, Angel gave the garment a quick shake, before throwing it carelessly over the nearest chair.   
  
"I guess I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't watch his back," he said. Then, with a devilish grin, he added an afterthought, " Or if I let him throw his cookies all over his damn coat."   
  
Buffy giggled, picturing the look on Spike's face. He loved that damn coat. Not as much as he loved her, but the leather came a very close second.   
  
Turning away from the giggling blonde, Angel reached for a discarded blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it over the sleeping drunk, who, completely oblivious to the world around him, had rolled back over and was now snoring softly on his back.   
  
Buffy watched with genuine affection as Angel move away from Spike, only to turn back and nudge the empty bucket a few inches closer.   
  
"I bet he still manages to miss it," he teased lightly, embarrassed that his gesture had been observed.  
  
At the icky vision of Spike missing the bucket, Buffy crinkled her nose in mock disgust. "If he does miss it, you will be the one clearing it up," she teased back.   
  
At Buffy's comment Angel shook his head and laughed "It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do it," he said, walking slowly across the room.   
  
He was half way to the door when Buffy's next words stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"He's really lucky to have you for a friend," she said softly.   
  
Angel turned; he considered the statement for a moment and then shrugged.  
  
"He's even more lucky to have you," he replied honestly.  
  
And he really was being honest. Even though he considered Spike his closest friend, it still astounded him that Pennington, the biggest jerk at Sunnydale High, was also the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. Despite his many faults, and there were many, Spike was the one dating Buffy.   
  
At the compliment, Buffy blushed and Angel, not for the first time that night, was absolutely awestruck by how beautiful she was.   
  
When she turned away, picking up Spike's duster to place it on a proper hanger, Angel gave way to the temptation he had fought all night, and allowed his dark, hungry eyes to linger on the delicious curves of her small body. He knew it was wrong; she was his best friend's girl, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tear his gaze away. Buffy looked so utterly adorable in the soft moonlight that it took his breath away.   
  
And it's not just the moonlight, his heart reminded him with a painful lurch. The beautiful blonde girl, who filled his dreams night after night, but was sadly always out of his reach, continuously left him breathless.   
  
Watching Buffy move around the room, Angel stood back, and let his gaze drink in her delicate features. Even in the dim light he could see that her make up was light. Not that she needed make-up. She wore a touch of mascara, a hint of blusher, and her soft, sensuous mouth was caressed with just the lightest covering of lip-gloss. At the though of her mouth, Angel's lips became dry and he quickly chastised himself for his disloyal feelings.   
  
You need to get away from her. Put a great deal of distance between the two of you, before this all ends in tear's Angel's head pleaded, but his heart, as always, refused to comply.   
  
Completely unaware of the affect she was having on her friend, Buffy's attention was now occupied with the crumpled form sprawled haphazardly across his bed.   
  
She sighed softly as she studied her boyfriend's peaceful face. When he was unconscious like this, he looked so young, so innocent. In sleep, the cocky, often arrogant young man, who liked to be known as Spike, seemed to melt away, leaving just the shadow of William in his place. Spike was the life and soul of the party, but it was William that had touched her heart. His kindness and support when her mother died had made him her friend for life.   
  
For some unfathomable reason, everyone seemed to like Spike. Well, maybe not everyone. Her father, wasn't his biggest fan, but before she died her mother had adored him, as did her sister, Faith.   
  
Now if only... Buffy quickly cut off the thought before it had time to expand, and with a silent sigh, she pushed the tiny pang of guilt, which seemed to be her constant companion these days, away.   
  
Buffy knew how much Spike loved her. From their first meeting in the hallways of Sunnydale High, Spike had never made any attempt to disguise his feelings for the pretty blonde. Two years and a lot of water under the bridge later, he still worshipped the ground she walked on. And for Buffy Summers, that was where the guilt came in. No matter how hard she tried, and she really had tried, she simply didn't feel the same.   
  
Buffy cared deeply for the bleached teenager, he was more than just her best friend, but she also knew there was something missing between them. The spark, that small trigger that sets your heart on fire when you fall head over heels in love was nowhere in sight.   
  
Running her fingers slowly through Spike's platinum curls, she gently pushed a stray wisp of hair away from his eyes.  
  
When she spoke her voice was tinged with sadness. "Sometimes I wish..." Buffy stopped, catching herself just in time. No good ever came from wishing, she reminded herself sadly.  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
She turned back at the sound of her name.   
  
Angel, now standing by the door was leaning lightly against the frame. From the tilt of his head, Buffy realised immediately that her wish hadn't gone unnoticed, but when she looked into Angel's dark enigmatic eyes, his expression was unreadable.   
  
It bothered her.  
  
Pushing himself away from the door, Angel took a step in Buffy's direction. In a low voice, he gently prompted her to continue.   
  
"You wish?" he asked.  
  
Buffy trembled. The sound of his voice was causing a warm glow to flow through her body. She tried to deny the effect he was having on her, but when Angel asked the question again, Buffy swallowed deeply. Her heartbeat, which was now doing two beats for the price of one, sounded like thunder in her ears.   
  
"What do you wish for, Buffy?"   
  
Buffy's eyes flickered from the sleeping blonde rebel to his quiet friend.   
  
For a brief second their eyes met, and this time she could clearly read the expression of concern in his dark brown orbs. At the intensity of his gaze, Buffy couldn't help the flush of colour she felt creeping up her face.   
  
Trying desperately to calm her suddenly racing pulse, she turned away.  
  
"Sometimes I really wish he wouldn't drink so much," Buffy whispered, and placed a tall glass of water and a bottle of painkillers on the bedside cabinet. And sometimes I wish he were more like you. The second part of her wish, as always, was only whispered inside her mind.  
  
While Buffy struggled with her disloyal demons, Angel did the same with his.   
  
Sometimes I really wish he wouldn't drink so much.   
  
The sad note in Buffy's voice hit a nerve deep inside his conscience, causing Angel to run his hand across his chin. He could answer that question for her in a heartbeat. Not that he ever would. From the expression on the blonde girl's face, Angel feared it would break her heart if she knew the truth. That she was the reason Spike found solace in more booze than was good for him.   
  
Sadly, despite dating for two years, Spike's frustration that his pretty girlfriend still wasn't his lover, was slowly driving him into a bottle. Angel was torn. His friend's confession was heard in confidence, and he knew that telling Buffy would only make her feel guilty, or worse still, push her into doing something she obviously wasn't ready for. But after seeing the worry etched on her beautiful face, Angel knew in his heart that he couldn't stay silent for very much longer. Spike wasn't the only one suffering now, and despite his reservations, the time was fast approaching when something had to be done. For both their sakes.  
  
"I keep thinking this must be my fault"   
  
Buffy's soft words caused Angel to look up sharply. For a terrifying moment, he feared that she had somehow read his thoughts.   
  
"Do you think it could be me?" she asked quietly.   
  
The anxiety in her voice broke his heart.  
  
Angel took a step forward. He longed to wrap his arms around the small blonde and tell her that everything was going to be all right, but instead, he just shook his head and lied through his teeth.   
  
"You're not to blame, Buffy. How could you think such a thing? Spike adores you" he told her with conviction and realised that only the first part of this statement was a lie. The second part was so true it could have been carved in stone and dragged down a mountain.  
  
"It's just," Buffy hesitated. "Angel, it's the third time he's drunk himself unconscious this week."   
  
"I know," Angel answered, frowning slightly. He hadn't witnessed the previous times, but he had heard all about the hangovers the next day at school. On both occasions Spike had been too drunk to make his own way home from the Bronze, and his uncle had to be called out to retrieve the drunken teenager before he was arrested.   
  
Tears glistened in Buffy's eyes as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. "Maybe you could talk to him?" she asked hopefully."If he won't tell me what the problem is, then maybe he'll tell you."  
  
Angel stared down at her flushed face, hating the suffering he saw in her eyes. "I've tried talking to him, Buffy, but he doesn't listen to me any more than he listens to you."  
  
The hope Buffy was holding onto a few seconds earlier died. Her small shoulders sagged in defeat and even though it wasn't that late, she suddenly felt very tired.  
  
"As much as I hate to say this, I think maybe it's time to talk to Giles, after all," she said quietly.   
  
Spike, she had no doubt, would go ballistic, but that was a chance she would have to take. Buffy was now at the end of her tether and if Angel couldn't get through to him, she didn't know what else to do.   
  
Feeling as guilty as sin, Angel stood quietly watching Buffy come to a decision. It tore him up inside, but despite his mixed loyalties, he had no choice but to agree with her resolution. "I think you're right," he replied sadly. If anyone could put Spike back on the straight and narrow, Rupert Giles would. The only problem was, would Spike ever tell his uncle the real reason why he was drinking? And if he did, what the hell would Giles do about the problem.   
  
With a heavy heart, Buffy turned back to her sleeping boyfriend and gently pressed a kiss to his brow.   
  
"Goodnight, William."   
  
With a final glance at the figure curled up on his bed, snoring softly, Buffy slowly pulled the door closed behind her and reluctantly accepted Angel's offer of a ride home.   
  
***  
  
Buffy shivered as she stepped back out into the night. The faint breeze raised goosebumps on her bare skin and for the first time that night, she cursed the thin, sleeveless dress she was wearing.  
  
Angel turned and the sight of her erect nipples poking through the thin material of her dress almost brought him to his knees. His dark eyes lingered for a long minute, drinking in the mouth-watering view.   
  
Lifting his gaze from her delicious form, Angel took a deep breath "You're cold," he said. His words floated over her softer than the cool breeze.   
  
Looking up to meet his gaze, Buffy nodded.  
  
"A little," she admitted softly, as she crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't worth trying to lie; the goosebumps and the shivering were a dead give away.   
  
Keeping the tone of his voice level even though it was an effort to do so, Angel slipped off his jacket and leaning forward, he wrapped the worn leather around Buffy's small shoulders.  
  
"Here," he said, untwisting the collar.  
  
Angel's fingertips tingled as they accidentally brushed across the velvet softness of her skin. Breathing deeply, he inhaled her scent and the soft fragrance was intoxicating.  
  
When his fingertips came in contact with her bare flesh, Buffy shivered again, but this time the cool evening breeze had very little to do with her reaction.  
  
"It's a little big on me," she started, running her fingers along the soft lapels.   
  
Angel interrupted with a smile.   
  
"It looks good on you."   
  
"Thank you."   
  
When Buffy returned his smile with one that sent a shiver right down his spine, Angel lowered his gaze. He was suddenly terrified that she might see in his eyes, all the emotions he was trying so desperately to keep hidden.  
  
A moment passed in awkward silence until Buffy, feeling conscious of the uncomfortable situation, changed the subject.   
  
"I think we better go." She fixed a smile to her face and unconsciously pulled Angel's jacket closer to her skin. "It's getting late and my dad will be wondering where I am."  
  
Angel nodded his agreement to her request, but made no attempt to move. He was quite happy to stand there and just bask in her smile all night. Although the three of them were close friends, the time he and Buffy spent alone was so rare that Angel wanted savour these precious moments for as long as he could. Standing there in the soft light, falling deeper by the second, he made a conscious decision that would change his life. And break his heart. This situation was hopeless. As soon as graduation was over, he was applying for a university as far away from Buffy Summers and Sunnydale as he could find.   
  
He had no choice anymore. If he stayed in Sunnydale a moment longer he was damned.   
  
But you're already damned, you idiot. The realistic part of Angel's mind cried out in frustration and this time, his heart was in total agreement.  
  
Unaware of the life changing decision going through Angel's head, Buffy started towards his car, but she hadn't gone three feet when his soft voice stopped her dead in her tracks.  
  
"Why do you stay with him, Buffy?"   
  
Angel was instantly horrified. He hadn't planned to ask such a personal question, he just opened his mouth and the damn thing came right out.   
  
If Buffy was shocked by the question she didn't show it. She went silent for a moment, as if carefully considering her reply.   
  
Too late to do anything else, Angel waited patiently, watching the play of emotion flicker across her face. When Buffy finally settled on a truthful answer, she took a deep breath and purposely tried to keep her tone light.  
  
"He loves me," she replied.  
  
Angel's eyebrows rose a fraction. It wasn't the answer he was expecting and despite knowing that it didn't mean anything for him, he still couldn't prevent the tiny flutter of hope that started to grow in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"And do you love him?"   
  
This time the question did catch her off guard.  
  
Buffy looked at him for a long moment without answering. Six months ago she would have struggled for a reply. Six months ago she didn't even know what love was. Not real love. Not the love you slay dragons for. And then suddenly she did know. All it had taken was one look into the deepest soulful eyes and she was lost. Buffy knew what love was now, and the fact that she didn't feel this same emotion for Spike, was slowly tearing her apart.   
  
Looking once again into those same soulful eyes, she felt an ache start to grow in her chest.   
  
"He's my best friend." Buffy silently pleaded with Angel not to ask her any more questions she couldn't bear answer. It was hard enough living a lie everyday, without having to put it into actual words.  
  
Unrequited love sucked. Her heart reminded her painfully.  
  
While he waited to see if Buffy would add to her declaration, Angel held his breath.   
  
She didn't.   
  
She didn't say she loved him.   
  
She doesn't love him. Oh God, she doesn't love him.   
  
The mutating thought ran like a stampede of wild horses through his mind.  
  
You are not only damned, Angelus, you'll be spending eternity in hell for this. Angel continued to hold his breath while telling his conscience to get lost.   
  
He didn't need Jimminy Cricket sitting on his shoulder. He knew it was wrong, seriously wrong. Somewhere in the archives of the universe it was probably written in letters a mile high that you didn't steal the love of your best friend's life, even if she also turns out to be the love of yours. But despite his head shouting out all the reasons why he shouldn't even be thinking such things, his heart shouted back that Buffy's answer changed everything.   
  
If her reply had been yes, she did love Spike, he wouldn't have dreamed of interfering. But now knowing that that wasn't the case, that her heart was still her own, all bets between the two friends were off.   
  
Angel's emotions went to war over what his next step should be. His heart wanted to throw caution to the wind and tell the small blonde girl just how much he cared about her, but his conscience held fast.   
  
"Buffy, I..."  
  
Angel closed his eyes and bit deeply into his bottom lip, as the battle inside his mind raged.   
  
How the hell can I do this?  
  
Spike Pennington was more than just his best friend. Since moving to Sunnydale six months earlier, the Billy Idol wannabe had become the brother that Angel had always longed for. It didn't bother Angel that Spike was a born charmer. The British reject might have been a cocky, confident, sometimes arrogant, rough diamond, but beneath his steel exterior, Angel knew that his friend had heart of gold.   
  
At first appearances it seemed a highly unlikely friendship. The two men looked as different as night and day. But appearances could be deceptive. Thrown together by fate, or to be more precise, Spike's uncle Rupert Giles, and Angel's mother Jenny Angelus, the two teenagers soon found out that they had more in common then just being the new kids in town.   
  
Spike and Angel quickly bonded over a shared love of soccer, literature and the arts, but as they couldn't agree on any of the subjects, they often fought over every last little detail. Always on different sides of the coin, their arguments were passionate, often explosive, but never boring. Those first few weeks, the two teenagers would often sit up until the early hours of the morning discussing the writing styles of Shelley and Keats. The renaissance period. The rise and fall of Manchester United. All summer long their friendship grew in leaps and bounds and for a while, it looked as if the bond would last a lifetime.   
  
Then, just when everything was looking rosy in the garden, fate decided to step it with its great size nines. First day back at school, Spike introduced Angel to his girlfriend, who had been in Europe all summer, and after that first meeting nothing was ever the same again.  
  
The first time Buffy Summers smiled at him, Liam Angelus fell hopelessly in love.   
  
But she doesn't feel the same way about you. She might not love Spike, but she's never once looked at you in any way other than a friend and if you tell her how you really feel, you stand the chance of losing not only Spike's friendship, but also Buffy's. Is that a chance you're willing to take?  
  
"Angel?"   
  
Buffy's voice broke into his reverie, calling his thoughts back to the present. As she stared at him with confusion in her eyes, Angel knew that his head was right. Losing Buffy's friendship wasn't a risk he was willing to take. As his heart resigned itself to defeat, his expression changed. A mask of indifference slipped over his face, once again concealing his true feelings.   
  
Buffy frowned as she watched him move away from her, emotionally as well as physically.   
  
Unable to meet her gaze, Angel turned towards his car.   
  
"It's late," he said quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them "I should get you home."   
  
Buffy wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at the abrupt change in his attitude. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw something dance across his eyes, an expression she had only seen before in her dreams. The thought that he might actually feel the same way she did was almost too much to hope for. As her heart started to beat a little faster, Buffy found herself longing to hear the conclusion to his earlier sentence.   
  
"That's not what you were going to say." The words slipped through her lips before she could stop them.   
  
Angel stopped dead in his tracks. When he slowly turned back, he stared at her with such intensity, that this time it was Buffy who had to look away.   
  
Buffy felt her whole body flush. The sun had set hours earlier and yet standing there in the dark, wearing Angel's jacket and surrounded by his scent, she suddenly felt the temperature all around her rise by unnatural degrees. Before she could stop it, the heat in her body was shining through her eyes.   
  
On realising that the expression Buffy was wearing was no longer confusion, Angel swallowed deeply. For a moment the heat in her gaze had been unmistakable.   
  
This really was the point of no return.  
  
"I-"   
  
Angel took a deep breath but just as he was about to continue, he hesitated. A tidal wave of guilt flooded into his dark brown eyes as he struggled to find the right words.   
  
Buffy waited, knowing that whatever happened next, their relationship would change forever.  
  
Deciding it was now or never, Angel pushed away the guilt he had fought with for months, and opened his heart and soul.  
  
"I want you, Buffy," he started simply "I want you so badly, and I know telling you this will cost me my best friend and a part of me doesn't care." His voice sounded tormented, as if each guilty syllable was crushing his heart, but to his surprise, it wasn't just a feeling of guilt that worked its way through his veins. Standing there in the dark, Angel experience something else, something he wasn't expecting.   
  
What was that old saying? The truth will set you free. They were right. It did. After locking his feelings behind the walls of his heart for so long, Angel suddenly felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever happened next, his destiny was now in his own hands. His own, and the hands of the beautiful creature standing in front of him.  
  
Buffy opened her mouth, but suddenly found herself speechless. This was something she had dreamed about for months, but as the reality of the situation came crashing back down, she realised that her dream coming true would have unbearable consequences.   
  
Her eyes flickered to the door behind them and at the thought of her sleeping boyfriend, a boyfriend who adored her, a boyfriend who needed her, she was filled with a rush of shame.   
  
After everything he had ever done for her, how could she do this to Spike? She asked herself sadly. The answer, when it came was simple and painful. She couldn't.  
  
"Angel," Buffy whispered his name, helplessly, as she let her dream slip through her fingers. "We can't do this."   
  
Even as Buffy repeated her thoughts out loud she could feel her heart breaking in regret.   
  
Angel followed her gaze, and watching the distress on her face, he already knew her reply before she said the words.   
  
"You're right," he accepted sadly. "I'm sorry Buffy. I should never have said anything. I... The hole he was digging himself was getting deeper with every word. Not able to bear hearing that his stupidity had just cost him their friendship, Angel stepped back   
  
"I should go."  
  
Buffy looked up and at the desperate longing she saw on Angel's face, all her good intentions disappeared. She knew that if she acted on her feelings it would bring nothing but heartache, but she also knew she was losing a war. Warning bells went off in her head, but it made no difference. The second she looked into his dark eyes it was far too late to run for shelter.   
  
Some battles were not meant to be won, so she did the only thing she could do. She surrendered.   
  
Buffy took a step closer to Angel and placed her small hand on his arm. She raised her head and gazed deep into his dark, hungry eyes. Suddenly, her skin felt too hot and her mouth was too dry. For a second she didn't say anything, just carefully studied the contours of his face.   
  
The air between them grew still.  
  
Buffy took a deep breath and when she finally found her voice, her confession slipped through her lips as softly as a prayer.   
  
"I want you too," she admitted and no longer ashamed of her feelings, she held her head high.   
  
Angel could scarcely take in what she was saying. "You do?" he asked, a sense of bewilderment spread though out his whole body.  
  
Buffy nodded and the smile she gave him wrenched his heart.   
  
"Somewhere deep down inside I think I've always wanted you," she acknowledged.  
  
As the true meaning of her words finally penetrated his head, Angel slowly reached out his hand and wove his long fingers gently through Buffy's blonde hair. A soft moan fell from her lips as she closed her eyes. On hearing the small sound of acceptance, Angel's free hand caught her chin, tilting her face closer towards his. The kiss was barely a touch. Soft, tender and utterly soul destroying.   
  
And there it was.  
  
Buffy finally discovered the true meaning of the word spark. And not just an ordinary one. This was the 4th of July, the 5th of November and the 1st of January all rolled into one kind of explosion.  
  
As the fireworks went off beneath her skin, Buffy's heart raced with anticipation. Everything about this situation was wrong and yet at the same time, nothing in her whole life had ever felt so right. Angel smiled and ran his fingertips lightly across her cheek. He felt a tremor run the length of her body, but his spirits soared when she made no attempt to move away from his touch.  
  
The heart-shattering moment Angel's lips brushed across her mouth Buffy knew she was irrevocably lost. For a single second her heart flooded with remorse. She felt a wave of guilt for the blonde boy who loved her first and yet had unknowingly lost her the moment Angel had walked into their lives.  
  
This will break his heart, was Buffy's last coherent thought as her mind closed down to everything but the feel of Angel's lips on hers.   
  
As if he could read her thoughts, Angel pulled back slightly, giving the girl in his arms, time to change her mind.   
  
Buffy didn't need time. The time for fooling herself was behind her.   
  
As sweet as he was, her relationship with Spike was over. From the moment Angel kissed her, Spike had become her past. Standing there in the moonlight, wrapped up in his strong arms, Buffy Summers knew with all her heart that Liam Angelus was her future.  
  
With the decision took, Buffy reached for Angel and her small hand came to rest on the solid muscle of his chest. Under her palm, she felt the rapid beating of his heart, its frantic pounding was as erratic as her own was, and in that very second she knew that whatever she was feeling, it was going to last forever.  
  
Buffy wasn't the only one coming to that understanding.  
  
Looking deep into her eyes, Angel opened his heart and let free all the emotions he had long been hiding.   
  
His head tilted, resting against her forehead.  
  
"I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop." He closed his eyes and breathed out the declaration against her skin.  
  
Buffy's hand reached to the side of his face and gently caressed his cheek "Me, too. I can't either" she replied, her soft admission was so quiet, the words were almost lost on the evening's breeze.   
  
With a soft sigh of relief, Angel caressed her with his lips, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. "God, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his lips hot and wet against her skin.  
  
When his mouth finally claimed hers, Buffy wondered if she would ever remember how to breathe again. Angel's tongue traced the line of her willing lips. Parting them with ease, it slowly slipped inside her mouth. Buffy murmured softly in pleasure when Angel ran his hands up the length of her back. Letting go of any lingering doubts, she pressed her small body into his larger frame.   
  
Time stood still.  
  
The two, soon to be lovers, were so wrapped up in each other's presence that they both missed the quiet sound of the door opening behind them.   
  
Buffy was the first to notice Spike. Her mouth fell open as she caught sight of the murderous look in her boyfriend's cold blue eyes. Moving almost in slow motion, his disbelieving face wore a mask of unadulterated fury.  
  
Buffy felt her stomach churn as the guilt she had earlier pushed to one side, returned with a vengeance. She didn't regret her decision, she could never regret falling in love with Angel, but standing there watching the betrayal in her boyfriend's eyes, she knew the way she'd handled that decision was unforgivable. Buffy cursed her stupidity. Spike should never have found out like this.   
  
Slow motion ended and before Buffy could open her mouth to speak, she was violently wrenched away from Angel's arms.   
  
"You fucking son of a bitch."  
  
Despite being several inches shorter, and more than a few pounds lighter, Spike grabbed Angel by the front of his shirt and smashed him up against the side of the nearest wall.   
  
Angel felt the back of his skull hit the hard brickwork and for a moment all he could see was stars. He shook his head and slowly the view changed. Not for the better. The stars faded only to be replaced by a very pissed off ex-best friend.  
  
"You cheating bastard. She's mine," the blonde teen snarled, his blue eyes flashing with fury.   
  
With his world crashing down around him, Spike didn't wait for explanations, his fists clenched tightly and without another word, he threw a series of bruising punches in Angel's direction.   
  
"You're wrong, Spike. Buffy doesn't belong to you. She doesn't belong to any one."  
  
Angel tried to block at first, but after the third punch landed on his jaw, snapping his head back with a violent jerk, he knew he had no other choice, and retaliated. A clean right hook landed above Spike's left eye, splitting open the eyebrow with an ugly crunch. As his eye exploded in pain, Spike hit the floor with a sickening thud. Blood streaming down the left side of his face from the deep cut.   
  
When his head cleared enough to understand where he was, Spike reached up his hand and touched two fingers to his blooded eyebrow.   
  
"Bollocks"   
  
Swiping away the blood that was seeping into his swollen eye, Spike started for his feet.  
  
This was going to turn ugly.  
  
With a look of horror in his eyes, Angel clenched his fists, preparing to defend himself once more.  
  
Buffy felt the colour drain from her face. Fearing that one of them was about to get seriously hurt, she cried out to prevent further blood shed.   
  
"Stop it. Spike. Angel. Please, stop it," she pleaded urgently as she placed her small body between them.  
  
Despite his rage, the words somehow passed through the red mist in Spike's head. Feeling emotionally and physically exhausted, he gave up the fight and slumped back to the floor. Spike groaned and shook his head. His left eye was almost swollen closed now and his head was throbbing from the earlier alcohol he had consumed.   
  
Angel's gaze swept over Buffy. Making sure she was alright, he then lowered his fists and took a step back. He didn't look at Spike, knowing there was simply nothing he could say at that moment that would do any good.   
  
After a few seconds the silence became unbearable.   
  
Making the first move, Buffy knelt down in front of Spike and hesitantly, held out her hand. "Here. Let me help you, " she offered quietly. Her throat filled with tears but she held them back, knowing that crying would only make the situation a hundred times worse. If that was at all possible.  
  
Spike lifted his head. At the look of pity in Buffy's beautiful eyes, his heart shattered into a million pieces. Hurt and betrayed, he pushed her hand away and staggered back to his feet.   
  
When he spoke his voice was cold, but his eyes were full of emotion.   
  
"Fuck off."   
  
Buffy flinched and Angel took a step forward.  
  
"Spike."   
  
"And you can fuck off too, mate." The bitterness attached to the last word wasn't missed by Angel. Or by Buffy. In that instant, both knew friendships had died that night. They could never be resurrected.  
  
Ignoring them both, Spike wiped the dirt and the blood from his hands, on to his jeans.   
  
He knew he was beaten. Not so much physically, the physical pain meant little to him, but emotionally he was in pieces.  
  
Now was not the time for revenge, no matter how much his heart screamed for it. Revenge would come later. Much later.  
  
Picking up the last shreds of his dignity, and with a glare of pure hatred in his icy blue eyes, Spike sneered at the two people who, a few hours earlier, he had cared about most in the world.   
  
His jaw tightened, his ice blue eyes narrowed to furious slits, and when he spoke his voice was low and deadly.  
  
"You two truly deserve each other."   
  
Without so much as another word Spike turned his back and walked away. The only sound was the slamming of the door behind him.   
  
****  
  
L.A.   
  
2004  
  
You two truly deserve each other.   
  
Sitting alone in the dark, surrounded by the shattered remnants of her life, Buffy heard the words so clearly that for a second, she swore Spike Pennington's ghost had slipped into the room to taunt her. The thought made her shiver. The small hairs on the back of her arms standing on end.   
  
Was it a ghost?   
  
Although she hadn't laid eyes on Spike since that fateful night, she had heard over the years that he had returned to England. Probably happily married with a house full of children.   
  
Buffy shook her head. It all seemed such a long time ago now, a lifetime almost, but she remembered the words so clearly. Those words, like the look of betrayal on Spike's face, were something she was hardly ever likely to forget.   
  
Buffy sighed deeply.  
  
She understood that look now. She knew with a heavy heart that if she looked into a mirror, that same look would now be etched deeply into the lines of her own face. Buffy closed her eyes and lent her head back against the wall. It was too little and years too late, but it needed to be said.  
  
"I'm sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry"  
  
****  
  
In a small hotel room, on the other side of the city, Spike Pennington sat on his bed surrounded by photographs. His curiosity was killing him. Knowing that Buffy had already received the prints he had sent her, Spike would have gladly sold his soul to the devil to be a fly on the Angelus' living room wall when Angel returned home.  
  
It would have been sweet to watch Angel finally get his comeuppance, but he could wait. He raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply  
  
After eighteen years what was another few weeks.   
  
TBC... In the New year :) 


End file.
